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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209060">And the boy who loves you the wrong way is filthy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error404NotFound/pseuds/Error404NotFound'>Error404NotFound</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ashe is kinda masochistic, Ashe's Freckles, Cock Slut!Ashe, Crying, Desk Sex, Facials, Foot Jobs, Kind of dubcon... definitely dubcon, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, My Unit | Byleth is an Asshole, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Public Masturbation, Rough Sex, Slut Shaming, Stockholm Syndrome, Teacher-Student Relationship, Verbal Humiliation, Victim Blaming, Wet Dream, i mean kinda, sexual awakening</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:27:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error404NotFound/pseuds/Error404NotFound</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A sterile but seemingly inoffensive smile slides across his lips as he carefully says, "I need you to get on your knees."</p><p>Or, Byleth's been thinking he wants to get his hands on Ashe, and so he does.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, yeah, this is basically what I wanted to do to Ashe throughout the game, his freckles drive me nUTS. We are in dire need of more explicit fics for Byleth and Ashe.</p><p>Also just a heads up for Byleth being a little darker than how I've seen him portrayed in other works.<br/>Also x2 don't take it too seriously I just wanted to write smut x9</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you wanna eat something? I'm starving."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe nods with more force than necessary, trying to convey that Annette just took the words from his lips. He'd spent the whole class fantasizing about a good trout fillet, like the ones they sold at </span>
  <span>the Dining Hall</span>
  <span>, and he was thinking about getting Dudue to tag along with them, maybe drop by the greenhouse afterwards. Unfortunately, Ashe realizes as he looks around the room, the </span>
  <span>Duscarian</span>
  <span> retainer seems to have left already, most likely following Dimitri on his way to the </span>
  <span>training grounds.</span>
  <span> Too bad, but Ashe doesn't think he’d be able to go looking for him when he can go straight to the </span>
  <span>Dining Hall</span>
  <span> and satisfy the hunger that has plagued him all day. Skipping breakfast the day they practice black magic hadn't been his brightest idea, if he’s being honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the other side of the room the professor and Ingrid discuss something, while Felix waits for her by the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do they serve fish today?" he asks, suddenly recalling that this only happens on Tuesdays, as he gathers his few books in his arms, "Or was it meat?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette follows suit, a thoughtful expression on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think it was... meat? But it's not like we can't ask, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two head for the door, where Felix gets out of the way when he sees Annette. They both exchange a small smile, and while Ashe has no idea what secret they share that makes Annette look away and the stoic swordsman suppress a wider grin, he doesn’t pry. Not quite yet, that is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as they’re about to go down the stairs to cross the lawn in front of the classrooms, a hand on his shoulder makes Ashe turn on his heels. Ingrid's green eyes greet him, a kind smile on her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The professor is calling for you, Ashe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy grimaces, confused, and exchanges a quick glance with Annette. Ingrid says her goodbyes and starts off with Felix, who doesn’t turn to do the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go ahead if you want," Ashe says to his friend, watching her features drop slightly. "I'll try to catch up, but don't wait for me to order."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seems to have a thought or two against it, but Ashe knows – because he’s going through it firsthand- that the girl is dying to just go eat. He shakes his head and gives her a reassuring smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Awww, okay, " she relents, "but try to get away so we can eat together."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, sure."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth is, he doesn’t know how long the professor will take or what he needs from him now when he had him sitting for hours in the classroom, but his belly practically hurts from hunger, so he doesn't lie when he says he’ll try anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe peers into the room, empty except for the professor, who is cleaning the chalkboard at the back, facing away from the entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Professor?" the boy says, his voice bouncing off the bare walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth looks at him over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, Ashe. Come here for a minute."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy obeys and enters the room, but is barely taking a step when his professor raises his voice again, "Close the door, will you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe does so willingly, holding the books under his free arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Put the lock on, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon hearing this, Ashe hesitates for half a second before doing so. He looks back at the professor, but there’s  nothing out of the ordinary in his expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something deep inside tells him he should probably say something about it, but that half second is up before his hand slides the latch into place as requested. His head is always playing tricks on him that make him look paranoid, so he decides to drop the subject for his own peace of mind. It's not like something bad would happen in a locked room with someone like Byleth, right? When the teacher is the person who works the hardest to guide and protect them. Either way, the anxiety that is born from this question settles in his stomach, making him feel worse than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decides to ignore the feeling, so when he eyes the other man again, he shows him his best smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What did you need from me, professor?"</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe's green eyes look up at him with their usual light to them despite the pause just now, which Byleth didn't miss. Well. Asking him to lock the door </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a risky move, he knew that as a strategist; that would’ve alerted anyone from the beginning, alerted</span>
  <em>
    <span> Ashe </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the beginning, but he knew the boy trusted him blindly. All the kids in his class did, after all, and having helped Ashe with the whole </span>
  <span>Lonato</span>
  <span> problem and such, he was sure he had the boy wrapped </span>
  <span>around his finger</span>
  <span>. He knew that no matter how confused Ashe was, he would trust his judgment and decisions before he even listened to his own instincts. Byleth briefly wonders if Ashe would still trust him while having him trembling beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy was too good for his own good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving to his desk, he gives him a tiny grin of his own, inviting him closer. The boy crosses the distance that separates them, not being able to avoid putting some of the haste he carries in his movements. Byleth, of course, is quick to notice and cocks his head, feigning confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry, were you headed somewhere?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy vehemently shakes his head, always polite, but doesn’t lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was going to have lunch with Annette- oh, but please pay it no heed!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth nods, resting a gloved hand on the wooden surface to his right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, well, don’t worry. I won't be long."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe nods, visibly relieved. He didn’t lie, so Byleth's smile remains, along with his relaxed demeanor. To be honest, the professor knows perfectly well he has no right to be this fresh when he’s spent weeks fantasizing about this. He knows his exterior remains as stoic as usual, but the words crowd behind his throat, words that he’s thought over and over again, that he’s rehearsed at night like a mantra until the day he woke up brave enough to let them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, the boy in front of him is so kind that he doesn’t comment on his sudden silence; it gives him enough time to collect his thoughts and remind himself that the door is firmly closed. It's not like he has a plan, but he's had this fantasy long enough to figure out how to get started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I couldn’t help but to notice that you were very distracted today."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing this, Ashe looks slightly taken aback, a squeak coming out of his mouth and a small blush painting his cheeks pink. Byleth feels his mouth watering. He wants to lick his cheeks, right where blood pools under the skin, just to see if they're warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm really sorry,” says the young archer when he puts himself together, and Byleth doesn't doubt his words one bit. “I had other things in mind. My deepest apologies."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It’s alright," the other assures him, raising a hand in his direction in a gesture intended to appease him, and gently shaking his head, "But I've seen you like this all week. The truth is, you have me troubled."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe's eyes grow slightly larger, reflecting his surprise. Knowing him, he’s surely astonished that his professor has noticed his scattered state of mind and shows concern, which is almost hilarious. Byleth doesn’t understand how it is that these kids who spend most of the day with him still don’t understand they are like an open book to him, that changes in their behavior immediately stand out to his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is something the matter?" he asks before Ashe can say anything for himself, and then, "Is there anything I can do to help you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe seems to hesitate for a moment, but shakes his head fervently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I’m just tired, professor," he affirms, a smile coming to his lips again. He seems genuinely moved by this, and Byleth gives himself a mental pat on the back. "Please don’t worry, for I’ll spend the weekend resting properly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have stable duty tomorrow, right?" he pauses for Ashe's response, though he knows it already. “Well, then take advantage of that time to rest up. I wouldn't want to see you falling asleep in class."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe laughs charmingly, the sound akin to music to Byleth’s ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, professor, I will follow your advice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth nods, satisfied with the change of mood, which feels lighter now, with how Ashe's shoulders look more relaxed. As much as the blue-haired man was curious about what fear would look like in Ashe's pretty eyes, he's glad this little detour has given him some sense of security back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That being said..." he begins, trying to lock his gaze with the boy's, to try to convey the idea that he’s going to tell him something important. He gets his eyes to follow him even when he's taking the gloves off his hands. "I wanted to show you something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe tilts his head curiously, clearly registering the movement of Byleth's hands, but doesn't comment on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sterile but seemingly inoffensive smile slides across his lips as he carefully says, "I need you to get on your knees."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe’s expression is worth gold, seriously. His eyes widen slightly, and there is confusion in them, but surprise dominates. He probably never expected to hear that from Byleth, but hey, the teacher thinks there’s always a first time for everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"W-what? I'm afraid I'm not following,” Ashe stutters, though he does his best to make it appear like the gears in his head haven't started turning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only lasts an instant, but Byleth sees it anyway: Ashe’s eyes dart at the door, surely remembering it’s closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," says the professor, adopting the sweet voice he makes use of when his students make mistakes while being tutored. He’s an eyewitness of how it works wonders on Ashe, but since there’s something in Byleth today that makes him feel like pushing a tad too hard, he takes a step towards the boy as he adds, "Trust me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's obvious that Ashe is holding back with all his might to back down, even though the distance between them is still perfectly acceptable. He probably doesn’t want to come across as rude, telling himself he’s thinking too much of it. He looks uncomfortable, but Byleth wouldn't say scared. Not yet, anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe makes as if bending his legs to kneel, but Byleth stops him, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come a little closer."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe chuckles awkwardly, and sets his books on the desk. He obeys, though reluctantly, and moves a bit closer, an arm's length now, and kneels on the cold stones on the ground. Byleth has to force himself not to look like he’s having the time of his life, though the sight of his student doing this on his own free will, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he asked him to, makes his pants feel tighter than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy has flushed cheeks, the color enhancing the freckles sprinkled on his nose, and his eyes seem to want to settle on anything other than the professor in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Um," he clears his throat, most likely thinking he wants this to be over as soon as possible, his hands resting at his sides, fiddling with the seams of his clothing in an attempt to distract himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now," Byleth says, making sure not to let the euphoria of having Ashe the way he's been dreaming for months show on his face, "I thought you'd like to see this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy's gaze returns to him, and Byleth puts his hands on his belt. Next, Ashe makes a pathetic sound of surprise that accompanies the jingle of the </span>
  <span>buckle</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Professor, w-wait!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his arms to the level of his face, creating a physical barrier between them, and closes his eyes tightly, turns his head in another direction, and while this doesn’t amuse Byleth, he decides to let it slide. It would be unrealistic to expect him to sit there and watch what is obviously going to unfold, as if the situation wasn’t strange enough by itself. Still, he hasn't stood up to leave, and the professor loves that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth unzips his pants enough to be able to extract his semi hard-on  from his underwear. He massages himself slowly, without taking his eyes off Ashe, the movement of his hand causing him to sigh contentedly. And as it’s expected, the sound makes Ashe open one eye and look at him, the same one that goes down to his member wrapped in his fingers, out in the open. What he sees makes him gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"W-what are you doing, professor? Please s-stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth smiles at him, and his gentle tone of voice makes Ashe lower his arms a little, so he can look at his face. His expression is exquisite, his blush more pronounced and his eyes wider than before. There seems to be a lot going on in his mind, but as perplexed as he is, he’s still beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It’s alright, Ashe, you can watch if you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His student's Adam's apple moves down his throat, and the sight sends more blood to his cock in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe forces himself to smile up at him, but it's strained and pitiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-this is because I didn’t pay attention, right? I-I’m so, so sorry, it- it will not happen again, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make eye contact for a moment, and Byleth sees Ashe's eyes go down briefly before returning to his immediately after. He can't help but chuckle at this; Ashe's eyes seem to betray him quite a lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's not it, Ashe," he tells him, slowing down his ministrations to his length, just so he can speak more clearly. The boy seems genuinely at a loss by his words, so Byleth is quick to explain, "You don't know how much I've imagined you like this, here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing that, a shadow passes over the boy's face, and Byleth can’t identify what it is. Is it disappointment, upon discovering that his beloved professor has thought of him in this way for so who knew how long? Or disgust, maybe? Be that as it may, Byleth knows Ashe stands out among his students for constantly questioning his own worth and his place among his peers, so he takes that approach when he speaks again. He stops his hand and sighs, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know what? You're right, now that I think about it. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe makes a face, surely as bewildered as before, but lowers his arms completely. Byleth gives him his best apologetic expression, accompanied by a sad smile. He’s rehearsed this face lots of times before the mirror, knowing it would eventually come in handy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry, I think I got it wrong," he says, savoring how those green eyes drink on every word that comes out of his mouth without question. </span>
  <span>“I thought you’d like this, but it’s okay if you don’t.</span>
  <span> You are dismissed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a silence between them, and Byleth knows it's up to Ashe whether he gives the professor what he wants the easy or the hard way. At this time in the afternoon the classes are already over, so the students are either in their rooms -in another building-, or in literally any other place of the monastery, away from the classrooms. He knows that even if he forces himself onto Ashe here, no one will hear him. Part of him wants Ashe to resist, just to know how far in he stops fighting, but another, the less twisted one, trusts the fact that Ashe wants approval over anything else, and that includes preserving his own dignity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"P-professor?" Ashe's little voice rises in the silence, thinner than usual. "I-I don’t understand what's happening."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I wanted you to see me masturbating. But don't worry, it's already clear to me that it's not going to happen. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe doesn’t say anything right away, he seems genuinely in shock, so Byleth continues on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don’t trouble yourself over this, I’ll just ask someone else."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the admission, Ashe's legs tremble slightly, but the movement is not lost on Byleth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bingo.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm sure Annette is still waiting for you. You can go now. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth makes a move to put himself back into his boxers, but doesn't quite </span>
  <span>buckle up</span>
  <span> when Ashe speaks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can do it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The professor’s eyebrows go up, directing his gaze to Ashe, who is already looking back at him. His eyes seem irritated, as if he’ll start crying at any moment, and the movement of his hands suggests he believes that the more he squeezes them into fists, the more strength he’ll have to go through this. Byleth wants to know if it’ll prove to be true, to know how long he’ll resist, so he lets him explain himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don't have to call anyone else. P-please let me do it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether this sudden change of heart is because he wants to protect his classmates or to not let Byleth down, it’s unclear. Byleth doesn’t mind either way, but he’d like to see his theories about Ashe turn into facts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s gonna pretend to be. Ashe may be shy and have dreamy ideals about chivalry and justice, which would normally make him a child with bigger dreams than what one would recommend, but he’s never been a pushover. This is actually what Byleth likes the most about Ashe, that he doesn’t allow people </span>
  <span>to trample him</span>
  <span> and stands his ground when he truly believes in something. That's how it is, under normal circumstances. Byleth is observant enough to know that Ashe has a special place in his heart for him, and that that’s why he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>letting </span>
  </em>
  <span>him do this to him. There’s something about this matter that sends a spark to his crotch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if wanting to emphasize his words, Ashe leans a little closer, still on his knees, and looks up at him expectantly. That determination on his face is admirable, even when he clearly wants nothing but to dash out of the room, Byleth will give him that, but it’s not quite what he wants to see right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth reaches back into his underwear, running his thumb over his swollen head, watching Ashe's green eyes drop to the movement. The corners of his mouth twist downwards, as if in disgust. Byleth narrows his gaze, his free hand moving the black cloth out of the way under his balls, showing Ashe his full erection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want you to keep watching, understand?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment for Ashe, but he nods. It’s not enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If I see that it’s too much for you, I will ask someone else," he warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y-yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, p-professor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, Byleth feels like he can afford to relax. His right hand moves again along his full length, which, under the attention of Ashe's eyes, grows almost painfully. The boy watches him silently while Byleth smears the </span>
  <span>precum </span>
  <span>over the rest of his dick, feeling how the rhythm he establishes conditions his breathing, coupled with how Ashe's lips are pursed with revulsion and his eyes seem increasingly teary. His blush fades down his neck into his clothes, and Byleth feels the urge to tell him to take them off, but the gasp of air he takes gives his brain some oxygen to reason that it's probably not a good idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm glad you’re enjoying this too, Ashe," he says instead, his voice huskier than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe's eyebrows do something funny, betraying him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't know how much I've imagined you like this," he repeats, squeezing his cock tightly, moving his hand up slowly, just so Ashe can see the precum pearly beads gather on the head. He sees him swallowing hard. “But I didn't expect my wish to come true so easily. Could it be that you wanted to see me like this as well? "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"N-no, I never-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, someone else, then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe's legs tremble again, but this time it spreads all over his figure. It’s like he's cold, the poor thing, but Byleth knows better, and the reaction gives him an idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no need for you to be ashamed. Tell me, is he in our house?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe shakes his head, but refuses to use his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is it Dudue? A little big for you, isn’t he? Maybe you’re into that, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth takes another small step forward, only for the tip of his cock to be right in front of Ashe's face, only to see up close his internal struggle, only to feel his hot breath on sensitive skin. He could swear he can almost see him backing tears down. Byleth's hand tightens when he sees Ashe mutter something in a thin voice, something that sounds like "no." For the first time, the boy's eyes deviate from his member, but the professor knows that it’s not intentional, that it’s just a response to what he said, so he decides to forgive him. Still, Ashe doesn't have to know this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eyes forward, Ashe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, his student obeys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S-sorry, professor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's barely noticeable because of the black pants of the academy uniform, but Byleth can see the fabric over Ashe's crotch tent. Interesting that despite the face he makes, his body shows interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth shakes his head, and puts his free hand on Ashe's shoulder. The boy starts, but Byleth's strength when he pushes him down is enough for him to understand that he must bend his knees and sit back on his heels. He tilts his head back immediately, so he can continue looking at the teacher’s dick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having Ashe’s neck bent like that makes his hand go a bit faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about Sylvain?” he presses on, feeling like he’s onto something. “Do you like the idea of him treating you like one of his girls?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tiny whimper escapes from Ashe's chest, who shakes his head again, and now it's Byleth who swallows the lump in his throat. He wants to finish erasing the distance between his cock and Ashe's face, rub it all over it, play with his lips to his heart’s content and then shove it into his mouth, pull his hair to force him to stay in place. It's a luscious mental image, which just makes his dick twitch achingly, gives him vertigo, but there's something special about not allowing himself to touch Ashe like that yet, about defiling him from here, about reducing him to a pile of pathetic whines that shudders every time Byleth says something to humiliate him.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe Felix, would you like Felix to do this to you? Or Dimitri? You like the prince, right? When he goes crazy on the battlefield and no one could stop him from having his way with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth's free hand raises his chin, soft skin under his fingers, so this time he’s looking directly at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm beginning to think that what you want is to be manhandled, Ashe," he says, his voice sounding unknown even to him. "But tell me, if it’s not a boy from our class, would it be a girl then?" Ashe's eyes say nothing, brows furrowed, his breathing more like a hiss now, and Byleth snorts in amusement, "Of course not, you don't seem the type." He gives his  cock a tug, attracting the boy's attention, "What you like is this, isn’t it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe is about to say something, to try to tell him he’s wrong, when Byleth presses a boot against his crotch. Instead, Ashe gasps in surprise, his hands immediately closing around the older's ankle, hunching over himself. It’s amazing how Ashe reacts to a dirty sole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Byleth orders him to look up, he growls the words at him, but Ashe shivers as he shakes his head, the pressure on his erection surely painful, as it’s still trapped in his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth stops stepping on him, but he doesn't remove his foot, just the hand from his jaw. He gives him a moment to recover, even as he’s dying to torment him a little more, but tries to remind himself that this boy can be reached in two ways, so he decides to pause before changing his strategy to the second approach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a second of near silence, in which only Ashe's gasps in his awkward attempt to breathe fill the room, Ashe lifts his head again. His jaw is clenched tight, and although his eyes almost overflow with tears at this point, he’s not crying yet. His eyes are fixed on the blue of Byleth’s, who has to force himself to take in some air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep down inside, Byleth can't stop mentally congratulating himself for preparing for this and masturbating before coming to class. He couldn't imagine the terrible case where he came just by making Ashe get to his knees; he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for not making the most of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love the way you look," he breathes,, almost speaking to himself, and resumes the movement of his hand, which had stopped at some point without realizing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he begins to move his foot over Ashe's pants, administering some pressure and then backing up, over and over, until he sets up a sway that, the goddess bless him, makes Ashe's expression soften, or more accurately</span>
  <em>
    <span>, cloud. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s as if his eyes stopped seeing, as if they stopped focusing, and the effect is slow, the transition between a grimace of disgust and one that is clearly one of pleasure is gradual, but it happens before Byleth’s very eyes.</span>
</p><p><span>Byleth chuckles softly, the exhalation of air making his lungs hurt, but even as he wants to keep quiet to appreciate this new expression on Ashe’s features, it’s the sound he makes that wakes up the boy and makes him force himself to focus again.</span> <span>What a disappointment, the professor thinks.Just when he thought he’d broken him. </span></p><p>
  <span>Byleth stops the motion of his foot, earning a gasp from the boy, who looks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"P-Professor," sighs Ashe, an inflection of need in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth shakes his head. Just a little more, he only has to keep pushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't get it, what is it that turns you on so much about this, Ashe?” His boot goes down with a little more force than necessary, making Ashe cry out. “I always thought you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> needy, but good grieve...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-no... I-I don't know..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe clenches his hands around Byleth’s calf, and this time the wetness of his eyes spills in form of tears, that trickle down his cheeks. Once more, Byleth wants to lick his face, this time to taste the salt on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Make me come, and maybe I'll allow you to do it, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seemingly without his consent, Ashe's hips sway slightly, as if seeking friction against the professor’s foot. Byleth can't imagine how much it must hurt him not being able to relieve himself or getting rid of his pants, so he lets him do it, delighting in that even at this point, Ashe doesn't stop staring at his cock, just as he had been ordered to, as his pelvis moves against the sole of the teacher’s boot.  Ashe whimpers, sobs, sounds like he’s on the verge of losing his mind, and it’s perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth reaches out to run a hand through his hair, fingers tangling between soft gray strands in a parody of gentleness, and then grips it tightly to hold him there. Ashe groans, and Byleth can't help making a guttural noise that comes from the back of his throat. His hand on his cock increases its speed; the closeness of the boy's face, his cloudy eyes, his messy breathing, his tears, propel him to climax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You look so cute, Ashe, you’re a beautiful boy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the exhale of a curse, he pulls Ashe's head at an angle, so his face is right below his length.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy clings a hand to the professor's other thigh to keep his balance, and then, in that awkward position, Byleth comes all over his face. Orgasm is like an electric shock, shaking his entire body and making his vision white out for a second. Despite his first instinct, which is to bite his lip, just as he always does when he’s thinking of Ashe when he touches himself in his room, the professor lets a low moan find its way between his teeth. He doesn’t let himself close his eyes and savors the sight of a white spurt soiling Ashe’s forehead, and then the next two landing on his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe closes his eyes briefly, his mouth still open in a silent cry, and Byleth closes his fingers around his cock, squeezing out all he has to give, even if it only ends up getting his hands dirty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, just like that, that's how you look best. What do you say?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe nods fervently, struggling to control his voice. It comes out </span>
  <span>wobbly</span>
  <span> and choked, like he doesn’t have enough air to let it out louder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"T-thank you. Thank you v-very much, professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth gives him a crooked smile, but Ashe's eyes don't see it. In that position, surely his back is starting to hurt, or his neck, or his knees, and since he’s doing such a wonderful job, Byleth tells himself, he’s willing to give him a reward. He resumes his attentions with the tip of his foot, administering more force than required once again, making Ashe cry that it hurts, but his hips never stop moving; if anything, their rhythm gets erratic and messy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"P-please…!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's it, Ashe, just like that. Come for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth feels Ashe's nails digging into his legs, and with a wretched moan and his face contorting with pleasure, the boy reaches his own orgasm. Byleth notices the tears keep running their course, even as Ashe screws his eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You took it so well, Ashe,” he praises him, and the boy shivers once more, still up in his high. Byleth runs a thumb of his free hand down one of his stained cheeks, rubbing the hot semen against his flushed skin, against his freckles. "I'm so happy I could give you this much."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The professor lets go of him and takes his foot back, only to see him almost fall forward, but his own hands stop the movement, which is a good sign. It takes Ashe a moment to calm his breathing, and as he does, Byleth adjusts his pants again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clink of the buckle catches Ashe’s attention, who is calmer now,  and raises his head to look in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth does his best to burn what he sees now on the back of his eyelids; Ashe's face is a mess with tears and cum all over it, still red up to his ears, his hair tousled, one eye closed because some white liquid has run down his forehead. He allows himself to savor it for a moment, because not long after a little voice in his head reminds him that if he wants this to never reach Seteth's ears, or worse, never happening again, he has to go back to the role of the good professor that everyone loves and respects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he asks this, he squats down in front of Ashe. The boy says nothing as Byleth fetches a handkerchief from inside his cloak and hands it to him. Ashe doesn't seem to process the words right away, so Byleth gives him one of his proud smiles, and strokes his face again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did very well, Ashe, you look beautiful covered like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees Ashe hesitate, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it again, but Byleth decides he doesn't have time for this and starts wiping his face with the cloth, which seems like a waste when he could just go and leave him lying here, dealing with the mess in his pants and his face smeared with cum, just to make him think about how to get back to his room without anyone seeing him, but he knows this is necessary too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"P-professor..." His voice comes out husky and exhausted, and Byleth loves the sound, how weak it sounds, but instead of giving him a reason to keep crying, he fixes his hair the best he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe deserves to be treated with care, after all. Byleth knows there will be a benefit to this, so he shows no sign of planning to leave any time soon. He bathes the boy with praise and compliments before offering him a hand.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter we have ptsd (or something) and desk sex.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know when nor how he got to his room after that. He just buries himself under his covers and tries to stop himself from shivering so damn much, all to no avail, obviously. He’s dressed in clean clothes and his hair is damp from taking a bath, but he still feels like he’s got this- this layer of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> sticking to his skin, something that he had to </span>
  <span>scrape</span>
  <span> off until his skin was irritated and it hurt to keep using the sponge on it, hot water making it red. He has no memories of the time he spent on the baths, but by the time he got back it was already late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annette knocked on his door around the time his eyes started falling closed, but he ignored her.  He didn’t know what to tell her, nor if he could even muster half a word in someone else’s presence -he couldn’t do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>alone-, so he let her wait until she gave up and her steps faded as she went away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doesn’t matter, he told himself, he’d see her tomorrow and make up an excuse. Tell her the- tell her he got distracted along the way and couldn’t make it to the Dining Hall in time. Now he just wanted to stay curled up in bed and stop thinking. He considered using a sleep-inducing spell on himself, but as he wasn’t exactly an expert on magic, decided against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only he could. Stop. Trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t sleep much that night, and when he finally fell unconscious it was already Saturday. He didn’t have stable duty so he was allowed to sleep in, and so he did. He didn’t go check on his plants like he usually did in the morning, so by noon Annette dropped by again, surely so they could go together and get something to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He surprised himself by actually opening the door and accepting his friend’s invitation, exchanging actual words with her, even laughing like nothing happened. If she noticed something was up, she didn’t pry, but after a night with somewhat troubled sleep, but sleep nonetheless, he felt a bit better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem presented itself when he was fully dressed -his soiled uniform made a ball under his bed- and it was time to head out. He found himself unable to cross the threshold of his room, his body freezing under Annette’s confused blue eyes. Ashe couldn’t fathom the thought of going out and catching even a glimpse of- </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His stomach churned in discomfort and he suddenly felt dizzy, like he could throw up at any moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ashe, you okay? You’re pale as a ghost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt saliva accumulating in his mouth, a sting on his temple. He shook his head and gave a step back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m not hungry anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took many silences for Annette to understand he wasn’t going to budge, that he wouldn’t get out of the room, even if it meant not eating for the rest of the day, but when she finally accepted he wasn’t going to elaborate on the reasons, she offered to get him something from the Dining Hall. He thanked her, but knew he wouldn’t be eating any time soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Sunday, he felt a tad better. He could sleep a little more, and even dared to go out to take a bath. He kept his eyes on his shoes the whole time and relayed on Annette to conduct him there. He didn’t get lunch again, and refused Ingrid’s invitation to go reading at the library. He felt a bit bad about his plants at the green house, even if he knew it wouldn’t happen anything bad if he didn’t tend to them for two days, but he was too busy biting on his nails thinking about Monday’s class to worry over them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which brings him to the current problem. On Monday, Byleth doesn’t look at him in any way that lets him know there’s something wrong between them. He lectures the class like he always does, his voice calm and firm, slow enough for them all to follow instructions, gentle when he answers questions. Ashe almost feels stupid for crying in the morning, prior to Annette’s arrival at his room. She asked him whether he wanted her to tell the professor he wasn’t feeling well, but he panicked when he thought of Byleth coming personally to ask about it. He didn’t want the professor anywhere near his room, so he forced himself to go out, even when Annette’s concerned eyes told him this wasn’t a good idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both got to the classroom before the teacher, when most of their classmates were already at their seats. Entering the room made Ashe’s skin crawl, made him feel sick to his stomach, but he swallowed the growing lump and made for his own seat. Byleth came in briefly after, head high and shoulders tall as usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t give Ashe a single look in the entire time the class went on, and the boy thanked the goddess infinitely for that. He thought that maybe they could pretend </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> never happened, keep acting like the only thing on their minds was the subject of each lesson. He thought he’d very much like that, but as the day passed by, he found his eyes glued to the professor, like some part of him wanted him to turn around and direct his blue gaze to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing is, the next three weeks after that Monday, Ashe </span>
  <em>
    <span>suffers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s anxious and impatient over something not even himself knows what it is, and Byleth won’t. Look. At him. He’s found himself more than once bouncing one of his legs under the desk, and Annette’s asked him twice now to stop fidgeting with his pen because it keeps distracting her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s been considering pretending he doesn’t get something in the syllabus to have an excuse to go up to the professor and talk to him, but he doesn’t think it might be a good idea. He’s been feeling better, almost back to normal, but Byleth’s distance makes him think of the most stupid things and it’s driving him mad. Like, has the professor… lost his interest in Ashe? Has he found someone else to mess around with? And, would this really be a problem, if it were true? Besides the fact that he obviously has to tell s</span>
  <em>
    <span>omeone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of course, like Seteth, to put a stop to it. He knows that’s not what troubles him, as embarrassing at it is to admit it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, the doubt grows in his mind every day that goes by; did he imagine it all?  Is he really that horrible, enough to create those pictures in his head to make himself believe Byleth did something like that to him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truth is, he totally is, he has proof now. He’s been having all kinds of steamy, twisted dreams that make him wake up in the middle of the night and change his sheets more constantly than usual. No one comments on it when he’s almost everyday going into town to take care of his laundry, but he knows someone’s bound to notice sooner or later. He’s disgusted with himself every time he wakes up to a sticky bed, but the Byleth of his dreams haunts him during the day as well, taking the form of his teacher that won’t acknowledge his presence in class when he’s done whatever he wants with him at night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In these... fantasies of his, he’s on his knees at the classroom again, this time door wide open, the cold stones hurting his legs as Byleth forces him to deepthroat his cock, a hand on Ashe’s hair to prevent him from moving. He uses his mouth as he pleases, shoving the entire length down even as Ashe’s tear stained cheeks and choked moans tell him it’s way too much, that he’s being way too rough with him. He doesn’t seem to care though, as he doesn’t relent at hearing the loud sound of him gagging, doesn’t let him breathe and thrusts violently in again and again. Ashe’s jaw aches, even if he tries to go slack so Byleth can fit his dick comfortably into his hot mouth, and he feels the thick smell when his nose makes contact with the professor’s pubes every time he bottoms out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he’s had enough, when Ashe can’t keep himself in position by himself anymore and he has to grip Byleth’s thighs for support, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he’s on the verge of losing consciousness because of the lack of air, Byleth pulls his hair back to get his mouth free at last, and makes him look up as he comes on his face. Ashe remembers the feeling of hot, thick semen rolling down his face, the scent of it, and feeling it again makes him press his legs together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In some of these dreams, Byleth forces him to lick his dick clean, even as he’s got his face covered in tears and cum, and Ashe complies immediately, knowing fully well his professor has a short temper when it comes to this. Sometimes, Byleth would tell him how disgusting he looks, working his tongue around a spent cock, something that was entirely his fault, because he was so bad at giving head Byleth had to use his mouth as a fuck hole to get to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In some others, he would slap him across the face to make him stop crying, telling him he turned him off with all those tears, that he’d rather be literally anywhere else but here wasting his time on a whiny bitch like him. Ashe would ask him to stay, to please use him, and sometimes Byleth did, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he’d be done with it and leave him there, to deal with the aftermath by himself, to pick up his dirty clothes and go back to his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were other dreams were Byleth would be especially gentle with him, something more akin to reality, but then turned meaner as they progressed, where he would tell him how pretty he looked with his legs spread for him, that he wanted to fuck him in his office again, that he wanted to make him cry louder, that if he didn’t want it to hurt that bad he should stop wiggling his ass for every man he saw, that if Ashe kept it up, tight and hot around him, he might just become his favorite plaything in the monastery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These dreams were horrible, every and each one of them, but every night without fail, his sheets got dirty again and he had to live knowing the effect they had on his body. But even then, without wanting to, he would vividly remember them, remember standing naked in front of Byleth and watching the teacher jacking off, cold eyes never leaving his, or him sitting on the professor’s lap, hot breath on his neck and feeling his clothed arousal against his bare ass, poisonous but gentle voice telling him this was all on him, that had him not been so sinfully seductive he wouldn’t be here, jerking himself off to completion under Byleth’s shaming gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made him realize how fucked up he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks, he should maybe, probably, most surely try to speak with Byleth about this. Not about his dreams, that is, more like… about what happened, why he did it, what was he expecting Ashe to do with his loud thoughts, swirling in his head every day all day long. Also, why would he do that to him and then ignore him, pretend nothing happened? Because of this, Ashe recalls having that tiny but undeniably present doubt: maybe it </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen? Maybe it had been another one of his weird dreams, the very first one. Somehow, that seems even more believable than Byleth just, waking up one day and deciding he wanted to do that to a student, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ashe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes more sense for Ashe to be the rotten one, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really get this part,” he comments halfheartedly, and it’s supposed to reach Annette’s ears, but even as she makes a face and asks him to say it again, he’s already coming to a stand, book in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth is near the door, talking to Dimitri and Dudue about something Ashe doesn’t bother to register in his brain. It might partially be because he’s too busy drying his clammy hands on his trousers, heart beating like crazy in his chest. He has no idea what he’ll say once he has the professor’s attention, Goddess, he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to utter a word in his presence when he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared</span>
  </em>
  <span> of even the sight of him a few weeks ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri notices as he approaches them, so he wraps it up and bows to the professor, thanking him profusely. Ashe gives them a weak smile when they pass him by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Highness. Dudue,” he greets, but barely pays attention to them as his eyes drift to Byleth, who finally</span>
  <em>
    <span>, finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> looks at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His blue eyes are as kind as always when they meet his, and as usual, there’s no readable expression on his face. Ashe feels like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, like a vice grip around his throat doesn’t let him make sounds to form a word, and his mind goes into overdrive, thinking that maybe he’s a nuisance by just showing himself in front of Byleth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The professor tilts his head, but remains patient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything alright, Ashe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question makes the boy remember why he’s come all the way from his seat, and the book in his hand gets a little heavier with his brain acknowledging its existence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yes, I just-“, he feels a blush crept all the way up his ears, so he drops his gaze to his shoes, even when he doesn’t want to waste the attention Byleth is giving him. “I, um, I have a question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth emits a sound of understanding and nods, waiting for him to elaborate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe wants to die on the spot. To be completely honest, he already forgot what he was supposed to ask, and while he knows it’s his turn to say something, anything, the words that want to come out of his mouth have nothing to do with today’s class. He wants to ask the professor why he’s been messing with his head so much, why he’s changed him so much and still pretend nothing happened, if he wanted Ashe to play along, to keep on watching him every day feel guilty about the dreams he’s been having. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks feel hot and his chest hurts and this is all Byleth’s fault, and he has to know it, right? This uneasy weight on his belly that’s been bothering him for almost a month now has to go away somehow, maybe through answers, maybe by dismissal. At this point, Ashe is just dying for scraps, for something, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>Byleth may throw at him, so he has to man up and. Say. Something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Profe-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Professor, what’s up with this spell? And why do</span>
  <em>
    <span> I</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to learn it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, Byleth’s eyes leave Ashe to go focus on someone else.</span>
</p><p><span>The sudden interruption comes from </span><span>Linhardt</span><span>,</span> <span>for once seated at the front, and who looks like he’d rather be napping at the back of the room. Ashe can’t help the surge of something dangerously close to anger that swells up in him. Apparently, Byleth had decided some time ago that he liked Linhardt enough to make him part of the Blue Lions, and while everyone else was pretty much okay with this, including a past version of himself, Ashe discovers a tiny, pitiful part of himself that can hate someone over something so trivial. </span></p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right there, Linhardt.”</span>
</p><p><span>Then, Byleth places a gloved hand on his shoulder, to draw his attention back to him. Ashe’s brain short-circuits at the contact, at the closeness of the professor, at </span><em><span>that</span></em> <em><span>hand</span></em><span>, the hand he used to-</span></p><p>
  <span>The boy swallows, hard, but remains frozen. His wide eyes go back to Byleth, who still seems as calm as ever, and then his hand is gone, along with his blue gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might want to continue with your question later, at my office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words, almost whispered like they were for his ears alone, send a jolt to Ashe’s crotch. He nods immediately, because Byleth wants to see him later, because he wants to meet alone with him, the anxiety in his system evolving into excitedness, making him feel like he can’t contain the smile that appears on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth doesn’t respond, but since Ashe’s ears are buzzing, it wouldn’t have made a difference if he did. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth tried to calm himself throughout the day, telling himself he had Ashe where he wanted him, that even if it took almost a month, Ashe was in fact, dancing in his hands. He only had to wait a little longer and could</span>
  <em>
    <span> finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> get his hands on the boy, just like he’d been wanting to do every night since that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered thinking it was a good idea to give Ashe some aftercare, show him some kindness only to make him think he still was the caring, gentle teacher he knew. As much as he wanted to keep toying with him, he knew the best course of action would be to pretend the whole thing didn’t happen. Well, by doing this he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> playing with Ashe, making him overthink and probably get confused over their current footing, so this fact made Byleth make use of his strongest self-restraint and stop himself from throwing sparse glances at Ashe when in class, from looking for excuses to go talk to him, just to see his reaction, to see if he’d shrink. The only thing that made him stop torturing himself with Ashe’s narrow waist’s temptation was the knowledge that Ashe was probably going through the same thing.  He couldn’t risk checking up on him, but the constant feeling of being observed confirmed it -or maybe it was all his head playing tricks on him, who knows-. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing was, he was still a professor. Fortunately, all the times Seteth came to see him since were work related, and not a shred of suspicion in his eyes to be seen. He still had his job and no student acted weird or uncomfortable in his presence, so Ashe had kept the secret. That was a good sign. Honestly, he’d hoped to at least Annette hear something about it, but he was pleasantly surprised with Ashe keeping his mouth shut. He’d have to reward him for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, he can’t stop moving, the anticipation of what will unfold in this tiny room making him almost shake in his boots. He discards the metal plates of his armor, barely realizing what he’s doing. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt this thrilled over </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>; to think a tiny, pathetic little boy like Ashe could ignite something in him. At this point, he doesn’t even know what he’ll do with him once he has him trapped here, what he’ll come up with to make him cry again, oh, those stupid pretty eyes of his filling with tears while looking up at him still manage to make his cock twitch in his pants. He’s thought of countless ways to defile Ashe’s façade of an angel, to make him realize how good it feels to stop playing that part of naïve, pure boy he has. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a voice at the back of his head that tells him to decide; does he want to have his way with Ashe, to hurt him and use him for his own pleasure? Or to do all that </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> make him believe he’s enjoying it too, that he wants it as badly as him? Does he want to test how long will Ashe endure before letting his brain wrap around the truth that Byleth is a horrible person? Sothis sounds disgusted with these questions, but he appreciates them nevertheless, as they are indeed interesting. He has no idea what he wants other than sinking into Ashe as he sobs out, to stuff him with cum and make him thank him for it. He’s got an entire life to think about the reasons behind his actions, so he’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost five in the afternoon when Ashe finally shows up at his office. As soon as he knocks at the other side of the door, Byleth knows he made the right choice, to let this eagerness build up in his chest, all for this moment. He knows he’ll savor every second of it, and when Ashe opens the door with his eyes fixed on his shoes, a nervous tremor to his hands, he can see he’s not the only one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- uhm, hi, professor,” Ashe mumbles, clearly trying his best to look up at his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When their gazes meet, Byleth rewards the effort with a tiny smile. The effect is instantaneous; Ashe himself gives him a hopeful grin of his own, like he can’t believe Byleth is looking directly at him. This poor attention starved boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you are here, Ashe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of his name, he takes a step closer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>on his own volition</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Byleth must gather all his self-control to stay at his place, by his desk. He seems eager to listen to him more, every word that might come out of his mouth to be held and cherished. He decides he can give him what he wants, for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts on a troubled face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe’s mint eyes widen in surprise, probably because this is the first time Byleth has even acknowledged what transpired between them. The teacher delights in his expression for a little bit more before adding, “And I wouldn’t blame you, if I’m being honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another step in Byleth’s direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no! There’s nothing to worry about, professor, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you hate me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe shakes his head vehemently, like such a thought is ridiculous to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth makes a show of sighing in relief, and he can hear a real sigh coming from Sothis, but one with clear disapproval in it. He ignores it. She stayed quiet when he did what he wanted with Ashe, so she doesn’t have the right to complain now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” he says, and extends a bare hand towards him. Just like if he’d uttered an order, the boy crosses the distance remaining to stop in front of him, eyes not moving from his, drinking in every word like he was dying to hear them. Maybe he has. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth brings his hand to Ashe’s pink cheek, caresses it with the pad of his thumb, marvels at how the blush makes his freckles pop. He remembers how pretty he looked with white semen all over his face, and the memory makes his breath catch. Ashe mirrors him, like he’s thinking of something himself, and Byleth smiles again at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” he mutters, and it’s not a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shiver travels its way up Ashe, that raises a hand of his own to the one on his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but you wouldn’t look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teacher shakes his head and hushes him gently. His hand moves to the back of his head, easing it among Ashe’s soft hair and the delicate skin of his nape. He feels the boy’s contained whimper more than hears it. His voice drops in volume when he speaks again, very aware of the boy leaning into him to listen, one hand coming to hold onto the front of his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was always watching you, Ashe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Professor…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” he says as he grows impatient, a throbbing heart beating against his ribs. “Will you be good for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe nods vehemently, not able to hide his excitement. Byleth gives him a smile of his own, the last for today, as he’s getting tired of drawing it on his face, and gestures for Ashe to undress. Amazingly, the boy doesn’t doubt and obeys immediately; Byleth doesn’t pretend to give him space, as he eyes his lean body intently as layer after layer of clothing disappears. His uniform pools at his feet, and when he’s about to remove his underwear, Byleth stops him. He traps Ashe between the edge of the desk and his body, </span>
  <span>raveling</span>
  <span> in the difference of their </span>
  <span>complexions.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>One of his hands finds its way down the boy’s neck, and the smooth, white skin gives him goosebumps. The delicate curve of it meeting the right shoulder, the swell of the breast, the constellation of freckles, a pink nipple, Ashe’s soft intake of air at the caress. Byleth feels his mouth water at how small he is, at how exquisite, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>fragile</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ashe looks. He wants to try bending him into an odd angle, try breaking him, just to see if Ashe would ask him to go on, only not to disappoint him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As lost in his fantasy as he is, he doesn’t notice Ashe leaning into him to connect their lips until he’s almost there. Luckily, he reacts just in time to shove him back against the wood. This time the sound that leaves Ashe’s mouth is of pain, and Byleth lets it distract him for a second from the matter at hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy looks up at him, green eyes filled with confusion, somehow hurt. Byleth frowns without meaning to, but he can’t help it. It would almost seem like Ashe was pursuing his own pleasure there, and didn’t like it when it was denied. Byleth can’t believe the audacity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid you don’t understand what you’re doing here, Ashe,” he says, both hands going up to rest at the boy’s elbows. There’s no strength in them, but it is not necessary to get the point across. “Here, let me show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes Ashe turn around, pushes his back to make him bend over the desk. The boy seems hesitant, an echo of his attitude back at the classroom nearly a month ago, and it makes Byleth’s blood burn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-professor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, yes, that’s the voice he wants to hear, one that tries to hide the trembling but fails miserably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe looks over his shoulder, surely uncomfortable in this position, but doesn’t move. Byleth loves how vulnerable he looks, with his little ass in his direction, covered but only for him to uncloth. Byleth traces with a finger the path of his spine, slowly, all the way down, feeling Ashe shivering under his touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are here exclusively to serve me,” Byleth mutters, in a low voice only to force Ashe to stay quiet so he can hear him. His finger hooks on the black fabric of his underwear and he pulls down a little, but just in mock of what he’ll do, eventually, whenever he feels like it.  “You want me to use you as I please, right? Because you love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes eye contact with the boy, as if waiting for a replay, but as soon as Ashe shows signs of going to say something, his hands sneak into the boxers and grope both buttcheeks, hard. Ashe whimpers, probably in pain once more, but there’s that inflection under the displeasure that tells Byleth what he wants to know. He massages the muscles as he speaks, not bothering in being gentler. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You owe me, after all. Of course you’d want to thank me for all I’ve done for you, isn’t that right?.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe contorts under his ministrations, and as he doesn’t have any wish to rush this, Byleth fully enjoys pulling both buttocks apart, only to see the black cloth blocking his sight of Ashe’s entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then? Am I wrong, Ashe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grey hair moves along with his head when he shakes it no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no, professor, I-I want to be of use to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth nods with approval, even if the boy can’t see him. He lets go of Ashe’s reddened bottom, but gives him a hard spank, only to see the color deepen. Ashe cries out, but it doesn’t seem to have actually hurt. Despite his looks, he’s still a soldier. Byleth figures he’ll have to use something else to make the blood vessels burst, but decides against it for the time being. Something tells him he’ll have plenty of opportunities to alter Ashe’s perfect skin, so he settles with this. For now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turn around,” he orders, making use of the authoritative voice his students know well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes half a second, but Ashe manages to comply. When he’s facing Byleth again, albeit embarrassed, he sneaks a hand behind himself to put his underwear in its place. There’s a tent in it, so Byleth lets him, but not without following every movement. He decides that while he liked Ashe coming here with a big smile on his face, his throat gets tight with this, with the boy fiddling under his eyes, uncomfortable in his own skin. He notices he </span>
  <span>humps</span>
  <span> a little, but doesn’t try to hide his body from him. Good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets a step closer, making Ashe almost sit on the wooden surface. His green eyes look up at him, and this close, Byleth can see those damned freckles mocking him. He briefly wonders how much blood can rush to the boy’s face even when he has a hard on. He’d like to discover how much red he’ll get to see today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth slides his hands up Ashe’s legs, from the knees to his thighs. The muscle tenses under his fingers, and the boy’s breath hitches. Byleth repeats the gesture a few times, as if willing Ashe to relax, and then looks for his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me, Ashe, are you a virgin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy adverts his gaze at that in reflex, and Byleth feels his legs half-heartedly trying to close under his hands. He doesn’t break eye contact as he pulls his knees apart, spreading him wider. Ashe’s hands hold onto the edge for support, and his chest goes up and down unevenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-profesor…” he complains, faintly, but his voice sounds weak, and he looks away again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth frowns in annoyance, but doesn’t dig his nails into Ashe’s knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ashe,” he presses, a warning seeping through the name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy shivers. He swallows, and Byleth licks his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yes, I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While it doesn’t surprise him, the teacher can’t say he’s not relieved when he hears the admission. He’s dreamed of deflowering Ashe so much, of how tight he must be, of how much he’d struggle to take him inside, how it would mark him forever because Byleth would get to take his virginity and there was no going back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears a discontent noise at the back of his mind, but instead of brushing Sothis’ presence away, one of his hands reaches to graze Ashe’s clothed erection. The boy hisses under the butterfly-like touch, and his hips try to buckle up to get a little more pressure. Byleth lets him. The fabric is slightly damp and hot, and Ashe makes an attempt to be silent as he stays still and Byleth’s finger goes up and down. His eyes are half-lidded, seem heavy and absent, and and Byleth says, as he knows she’s listening: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to take it from you? Here on my desk, where all your classmates have sat with me and will keep doing so after this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe’s legs flinch as he whines, but he keeps them firmly in place. He’s such a fast learner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-professor…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not really up to Ashe, but Byleth is having the time of his life, feeling Sothis’ energy suddenly disappearing, having Ashe panting with just this, so he gets a little closer, slotting himself between Ashe’s parted legs, and leans into the boy’s ear. The movement of his hand doesn’t stop but doesn’t get faster either, giving Ashe barely scraps so he doesn’t cum as fast as he’d probably do with a bit more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’d be doing you a favor, you know, so you’d end up owning me even more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe nods, a hand darting to Byleth’s coat for leverage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-please, I-I want you to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth leans in more, so Ashe has to use his other hand not to fall backwards, posing it somewhere behind him. With this Byleth is hovering over the boy, supporting his weight with a hand just because he’s enjoying forcing the other to do the same. He thinks he’d really like to actually get a hold of Ashe’s dick and tear an orgasm out of him, but he wants to keep tormenting him like this for a while, so he refrains from being rougher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a mess, Ashe. So needy, so easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drags a nail over the fabric, making Ashe whimper with his whole body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Byleth does kiss Ashe. Well, it’s more like he lets their lips meet, as he shoves his tongue into the heat that is the boy’s mouth. Ashe moans against him, his hands immediately reaching behind his head, flushing their chests together. Byleth stops his attentions to the boy’s dick, and decides to focus on roaming every cranny inside Ashe’s mouth; he licks at his teeth, his gums, tries to get as deep as he can, holding Ashe’s jaw in place with a hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon Ashe interrupts the contact to breathe, and he whispers against his lips, teary-eyed, “I-I’ve wanted this- I-I wanted it to be you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sends a spark straight to Byleth’s cock, makes him swear and Ashe to swallow the word as they draw close again. Byleth says terrible things to Ashe between kisses, what he wants to do to this mouth of his, what he wanted to do with it when he had it right where he wanted it. That if he’s good he’ll let him suck him off. Ashe moans and he bites at a plump lip, savoring iron soon after. The taste throws him over the verge, makes him growl in hunger, an animalistic part of him taking over control for half a second, where he doesn’t know what he’s doing or why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a spasm of Ashe’s hips, thrusting up into his, he decides he has to cool off a little or this will be over before it actually starts, so he draws away. When he does, there’s a trail of someone’s saliva making its way down Ashe’s jawline. His lips are red and abused from him biting on them, and while there’s no more blood visible, he can clearly see the cut. Ashe’s eyes look cloudy, barely seeing, and Byleth regains control enough to chastise himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he’d been desperate to have Ashe like this for a long time, but he’s torn between feeling embarrassed and surprised at his own desire. He was just thinking Ashe would end the fun because of his inexperience, but his poor self-restraint proved to be as much a threat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forces himself to inhale a shaky breath. He lifts Ashe’s chin, only to have a better look of his broken lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you, this worked up just from a kiss. You should be thankful I’m even indulging you this much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe nods, and his pink tongue darts out to lick at his lips. Byleth tightens his hold, if only to hurt him, to remind himself of his place over Ashe. The boy is trembling, eyes moist, and he resembles a puppy crying for attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-Thank you, professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not enough, so he slaps him once. The sound reverberates in the silent room, along with Ashe’s sob. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise, he made sure of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-thank you. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounds sincere, and Byleth loves it. He doesn’t let himself relish in this too much, since he knows it’ be wise to time up any visible damage with training and missions, but that’s not the case with the rest of his body, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Turn around,” he orders once again in the day, and this time Ashe obligues right away, returning to how he was, chest pressed against wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the sight of his ass, Byleth almost smiles. Almost. He gets a hold of one cheek, just to remind Ashe he can do whatever he wants with him, and squeezes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to be gentle with you,” he warns, as he takes his sweet time dragging down the boy’s underwear. The words make Ashe squirm, and even if Byleth can’t see his erection from his place, he hears the sigh of relief when he slides the boxers down Ashe’s thighs. “But if you behave I won’t hurt you either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does want it to hurt, but then again, this is but the beginning of their relationship -whatever kind it is-, so scaring him off right off the bat would prove troublesome. He figures he can give Ashe some of it for him to taste, even if it won’t be all he has in store. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth leans over the trembling boy beneath him, careful to press his clothed dick against the cleft of his ass, just as a promise, as a glimpse of what is to come. One of his hands caresses Ashe’s beaten up bottom lip, asking for entrance. It takes a tad for him to get what’s being expected of him.Byleth thinks it’s quite a shame he can’t see Ashe take two of his fingers into the cave of his mouth, but he knows Ashe probably likes it better this way. He can cut him this much slack, Byleth’s feeling generous for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room fills with the pathetic noises Ashe makes as he gobbles around his appendages, trying his best to keep his bottom in contact with the teacher’s hips at the same time. Byleth then decides it’s enough and draws them back, reveling in the boy’s futile attempt to go after them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He straightens, taking his index to circle Ashe’s pink hole, only to see a reaction. Of course, the little archer seems taken by surprise, and, as he slowly enters the digit, sees the boy tense uncomfortably. The sound that leaves his mouth isn’t that pretty either, but Byleth holds him by his waist to keep him in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is so it doesn’t hurt,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>as much</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he refrains from adding, thinking he can pretend to prepare Ashe, and put on a show of caring about his pleasure. “Even a lonely virgin should know as much, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Ashe gulping, head low between his shoulders, trying to even his breathing to relax. Byleth likes how his arms look while strained, the proof of training and hours holding the bow up clear as day. He likes his thighs as well, toned but just perceptible from an angle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-it feels weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes in another finger, ignoring Ashe’s gasp, and scissors them to stretch the tight rim.  Soon, Ashe’s demeanor changes; he shrinks, moans weakly, his hips try to move even under his grip. Byleth shakes his head, but doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers. He takes them out only to drive them in again, a little deeper every time. At some point he grazes his prostate, and it’s so obvious he chuckles a little. The boy cries out, seemingly surprising even himself, his hole clenching around the teacher’s digits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-professor, what-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows this is in no way enough, but it’ll have to do. He withdraws his fingers, earning a hiss from Ashe, that is now looking over his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to unbuckle his pants under the mint eyes, careful to catch every fleeting emotion in Ashe’s expression as he does so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All this,” he says as he holds his length in hand, making sure Ashe can clearly see it. He bumps himself slowly a couple of times, feeling the melting churn in his belly, “is going inside you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He delights in how Ashe’s eyes widen a bit in realization.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m n-not sure I’m ready for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth nestles himself between his legs, spreading them a little with his feet. He spits on his hand to lube his shaft up, and then aligns it with Ashe’s entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might have to force it in, but I’ll fit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not even done talking when he starts pushing in. Ashe tries to squirm away, but the hand on his hip doesn’t let him. As he makes his way in, Byleth hushes the boy when he cries that it hurts, leaning in again to whisper sweet nothings directly into his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are beautiful, Ashe, so very beautiful taking me like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The buy grunts in effort, but even if Byleth goes slowly, he doesn’t stop once, only to deny him some breathing room. He hears Ashe sob, and kisses his neck, the back of his head, savoring every inch he gets deeper into the delicious heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s finally buried to the base, hips pressed against Ashe’s bubbly ass, he grants himself a moment to take some air. Ashe is impossibly tight, way hotter than anything his imagination could’ve come up with, and it’s amazing. Now that he’s here, Byleth can’t believe how easy it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask for permission and makes to pull out, steadily, and slams back in, hard. The wet, hideous sound of it is disgusting as it accompanies Ashe’s moan, and Byleth decides he can do a lot better. He tries again, and again, and again, establishing a rhythm that is mostly based on how much gasps and sighs he can get out to Ashe in </span>
  <span>the least tim</span>
  <span>e possible. The boy tightens his hands on the edge of the desk, Byleth’s heavy body over him making it hard to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does it feel, Ashe?”, he asks in between thrusts, not really expecting an answer, not really caring what it might be, but he aims for that particular spot inside of him again. “Is it being fucked by me as good as you thought it’d be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe whines, tightening around him, and Byleth catches the way his hips angle so he can get a little friction against the wood. Now, he can’t have that, right? He takes the boy’s waist with both hands and raises it enough for his back to curve, just enough so his dick can’t touch the surface of the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy complains for half an instant, because Byleth makes his sole mission to reach his prostate and hit it every time he drives back in, as hard as he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I,</span>
  <em>
    <span> fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I asked you a question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe sobs out, louder and raspier, like he can’t control his voice anymore. He sounds like he’s crying when he forces the words out of his mouth, “I-I dwon’t-, ah, I-I don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile crepts its way to Byleth’s face, a twisted smirk that he would call a genuine smile more than that fake shit he gave every student.  He increases the pace, loving how Ashe does what little is in his hands to meet him halfway, as he stands on his toes because of the position Byleth put him in. His legs shake, just like his strained back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods, stop trembling,” Byleth says, e</span>
  <span>xasperated</span>
  <span>, even if there’s no real bite to it.  “I should just leave you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe shakes his head frantically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-No! Please don’t leave- P-Please don’t go, I’ll be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth growls upon hearing that, decides he wants Ashe to fall apart, to abandon that concept he has of him, of the loving professor and accept he’s just a monster that wants to consume, to use, to break. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Not having to pretend in front of his plaything and</span>
  <em>
    <span> still </span>
  </em>
  <span>be idolized, still be loved?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He talks against the shell of his ear, hot breath against damped skin, his voice reduced to a low snarl that makes the hair of Ashe’s nape to stand on end. “Don’t you dare come, you won’t like what I’ll do to you if you come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking one of Ashe's milky thighs, he bends his leg until it’s on top of the desk, giving him a new angle to pound into him from, making the boy cry in both pain and pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“P-professor-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take much for Byleth to come undone after that. He sinks his teeth on Ashe’s shoulder, hard enough to break the skin and draw blood, and just like before he feels the pressure reaching a maximum in his balls. Ashe’s sobs play an important part in it, yes, but the brutal, merciless thrusts that bury him into the boy’s warm depths and the coppery liquid on his lips kick the air out of his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Digging his nails into the soft flesh of Ashe’s leg and hips, reaching as deep as he can inside of him, he spills his seed, just as his teeth find more skin to go down into. His vision turns white and the sound around him is muffled, but even so he registers Ashe’s cries as he reaches his own climax soon after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faintly feeling like he can doze off anytime now, a part of his brain -the racional one, apparently- kicks in and informs him there’s no way no one heard him fucking Ashe. The boy has a loud mouth, so he doesn’t doubt the possibility is there. He’d like for it to be Seteth, though, to be him the one to hear them as he makes his way down the hall. Byleth chuckles as he imagines him blushing in both embarrassment and anger, probably too shocked by the scandal of it to act right away. Yeah, he’d like to play with Seteth himself, but that’s something he shouldn’t be thinking about right when he achieved what he’d be wanted for who knew how long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he stands up, pulling out of Ashe, he observes the boy’s limp body lying there, on his desk, with presumably no strength to move. He lets his cum drip down the boy’s left leg, and doesn’t offer to help, not right away. He occupies himself with fixing his pants first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, Ashe puts himself together and pushes himself up. Byleth extends a hand so it’s there when the green eyes turn at him, and the boy gives him a tiny smile, blush extended all down his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Byleth, he suddenly seems… not as interesting anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze fixes on Ashe’s right shoulder, where two angry bite marks marr the white skin. He brushes a finger over one, pretending not to notice when Ashe shrinks a bit in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, “ he lies, “I didn’t mean to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe, always an angel, shakes his head vehemently, a hand reaching up to cover Byleth’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, professor! I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He averts his eyes, pressing his lips together. He adds then in a tiny voice, “I-I certainly did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth urges a fake smile to take his lips, as he runs his free hand through the boy’s damp hair, getting it out of his forehead. The touch is gentle, but possessive.. Ashe’s eyes come back at him, and leans into it without noticing it. Byleth doesn’t know whether to feel sorry for this boy, for being the one to fall into his hands, or happy because he’s finally his, a pet for him to play with as he sees fit. Truth is, he doesn’t really understand any of these emotions,  but he supposes he should relish in his trophy until he gets bored of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ashe beams up at him, enamoured, in a lack of a better word, but he’s not as bright as before.  He’s soiled now, defiled by him, and he loves it, makes him wonder what he can do, how far he can go before Ashe comes to realize what kind of man he really is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth thinks he can still find a use for him. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yo I really liked Ashe while playing so why are there so few fics of these two? I guess I was the only one huh<br/>Also let me thirst over Seteth  :,)<br/>Thanks for reading!<br/>I have a <a href="https://twitter.com/Alasuchan">twitter</a> !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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